


testosterone boys and harlequin girls

by sweetlyinfinite



Series: things i deserted [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Fem!Harry, Harry in Panties, M/M, Panties, Unfinished, harry in heels, im so bad at this, that tag doesnt mean he's female just to clarify, um
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 16:26:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4312194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetlyinfinite/pseuds/sweetlyinfinite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>harry likes to get dressed up and louis likes to help him undress</p>
            </blockquote>





	testosterone boys and harlequin girls

**Author's Note:**

> the working title was "hardly any beginning to a fem!haz fic" so I mean,,,,,
> 
> on a different note, hi! I haven't posted in ages and I figured that I was never going to finish a whole load of fics I started or had written ideas for and so I decided, why not post them?
> 
> feel free to contact me at seasideghoul.tumblr.com if you either want to chat or you want to use this? anything I post in this series is available for the taking and/or modifying if you like, just talk to me first. otherwise, enjoy
> 
> title taken from Panic! at the Disco's "Lying Is The Most Fun A Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off"

When Louis gets to the hotel room finally, he feels like he should be tired but he’s really not. Even though he’s spent the entire day texting Harry and holding Eleanor’s hand which was too soft and slippery, wishing he wasn’t anywhere but bed with Harry.

He’s left Eleanor to her phone and own hotel room and is returning to the one he’s sharing with Harry. He fumbles in his pocket for the key card when he gets to the door, and as he’s doing so his phone drops out onto the floor along with a bobby pin and the card.

Louis sighs and picks them all up, his phone and bobby pin going back into the pocket and the key card slipping into the slot. He waits a moment and there's a small pinging sound and a light that was red turns green.

He shoves the card away and thrusts open the door because Harry’s behind it and Louis’ hungry. Though, when he’s shutting it behind him, it feels too quiet and Louis becomes suspicious and his eyes squint as he scans for anything unusual. The only thing he finds is no Harry.

“Love? You here?” Louis calls, widening his eyes to their normal size as he unbuttons his shirt.

There’s no response and Louis only actually manages to make it to the bedroom before he stops walking and his eyes are certainly now wider than ever, resembling a porcelain plate with blue jelly in the centre. His eyes flutter open and closed a few times and, “Harry?”

Except Harry isn't Harry, not the one Louis parted with hours before. This Harry is sitting on the edge of their bed, looking a little startled as he notices Louis watching. This Harry has a bruising red lipstick covering his usual pinkness and that’s covered with a shimmering gloss. He has sharp, dark black wings and a lengthening mascara, a light cover of blush on his already pink cheeks. He’s wearing dark forest green panties, the material sheer and lined with pretty black lace. The lace frames the top of his pale thighs, the hair all waxed off (Louis helped him with the wax strips once, when he was first starting, and asked why he didn’t just shave; Harry had said he had no trust in razors to do their job properly and as efficiently), a pair of thigh high sports socks adorning his lithe calves to end halfway up his thighs.

There’s an American football team crop top covering his chest and his nipples, which are probably hard and rosy under the fabric. The left arm of the crop top is slipping off his shoulder, exposing a black lace bra strap. Louis hasn’t seen this set before so he can only assume it _is_ a matching set. On his feet there are deep blue Louis Vuitton pumps Louis brought for him when they were touring in France. Harry’s worn them once before (then Niall complained all morning that he didn’t get any sleep and that the fans probably heard them and, well).

Halfway up his legs is a matching pleated skirt for the crop top.

Harry’s blushing through the foundation and concealer and _blush_ on his cheeks. He licks his lips, over the lipstick and dimming the gloss. Louis’ eyes follow the movement. Harry stands up off the bed and pulls up the skirt over his milky thighs to sit on his hips. Harry smiles, more a smirk than anything.

“Hey, Lou,” he says, his voice rough and quiet, seductive.

Not that Louis needs seducing.

Louis swallows and nods a little dumbly. He’d really like to kiss that lipstick off. “Hey.”

Harry steps forward and Louis is captivated by the _click_ of his heels on the floor. Louis feels powerless, almost, because Harry could do anything he wanted to right now and Louis would let him do it forever; he’d be stuck staring at the slip of Harry’s thighs he can see, the fierce red of his painted lips, his eyes shining beautifully with mischief and lust, the small smirk of his mouth, his tongue peeking out to suck his bottom lip between his teeth. Harry’s fucking gorgeous and Louis can't look away.

**Author's Note:**

> im an emo now and I am 500% invested in poetry, if you wanted to know
> 
> have a great day/night/time wherever you are! thanks for reading


End file.
